The courtyard was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the crisp breeze. It was one of those deceptively peaceful days in Konoha. The sun was high enough to cast long shadows across the training grounds, where I sat cross-legged, scribbling messy formulae on a scroll that looked like it had survived three wars and a ramen spill.
I was midway through scratching another half-formed seal formula onto the scroll when the shadow fell across the paper.
"Eishin Sasayaki." Her voice cut through the air, cold and professional in that way that made every Anbu sound like they were reading your execution order. Definitely a woman. Definitely not here to sell cookies. "The Hokage has summoned you."
I set down my brush with more care than the chicken-scratch formulae deserved, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be noticeable but not quite insubordinate. My heart did that annoying thing where it tried to climb into my throat—real subtle there, cardiovascular system—but I kept my face neutral as I looked up at her.
Purple hair, standard-issue porcelain mask, the whole "I'm too mysterious to have a personality" vibe. I recognized her, vaguely. From the show, maybe? Or from one of those missions where people didn't bother introducing themselves because they assumed half of us would die by the end of it. I didn't even know her name, which felt rude.
"Huh." I tilted my head, studying her with what I hoped looked like casual curiosity rather than nervous deflection. "You know, I'm pretty sure you were the one who came to fetch me last time, too. What is this, a new career track? Elite message delivery service?" I let my grin sharpen just enough to toe the line between friendly and insufferable. "Or should I be flattered you're taking such a personal interest in my whereabouts?"
I didn't actually remember much about her from the show. Just fragments, a background character who'd probably had a tragic backstory that got three minutes of screen time. Something about a partner. Kabuto, maybe? The details were fuzzy, buried under years of actually living in this world instead of watching it. But I was reasonably confident she wasn't one of Danzo's pet sociopaths, which was about as much as you could hope for when an Anbu showed up unannounced.
The mask stared at me with that infuriating blankness that all Anbu seemed to perfect in their first week. Seriously, they must have a class on it. Intimidation Through Awkward Silence 101. I could easily see Itachi give lectures.
"Because if it's the former," I continued, because apparently my mouth had decided we were doing this, "then your talents are criminally underutilized. And if it's the latter..." I paused, letting the moment breathe, my smile sliding into something more deliberately charming. "Well, I suppose I'd have to see what you look like under that mask before I decide whether to be flattered or creeped out."
Her head tilted ever so slightly, just enough for me to feel the weight of her glare through the mask. Impressive, really. Even without a visible face, she managed to radiate shut-up energy.
I met it with my best shit-eating grin. There we go. That was the trick with people like her. You've got to crack them open, drag them out of their shell, make them a little mad. It's like picking a lock, except more entertaining… well, to be fair, everything that has boobs was entertaining.
The glare held for two heartbeats before she spoke again, her voice as flat and unamused as a stone wall. "You are expected within ten minutes." And then she was gone, vanishing in a swirl of leaves before I could come up with another quip.
I clicked my tongue, already sealing away my scrolls into a storage seal. "Next time, Purple. Next time I'll get more than a death glare out of you."
The courtyard felt suddenly very empty. The birds had fucked off somewhere less tense, apparently.
Ten minutes to the Hokage Tower. Not a request, it felt more like a countdown.
I took my time cleaning up the ink, wiping down the brush with methodical precision. I definitely wasn't using it to settle my nerves. The house was quiet. Shiho had left for the Cryptanalysis Department hours ago, back to her nice, stable nine-to-five where the biggest danger was paper cuts and interdepartmental politics.
The walk to the Hokage Tower felt longer than usual, mostly because my brain wouldn't shut up.
This is just the official report, I reminded myself, forcing my shoulders to relax as I started toward the tower. A rather standard procedure. Minato got the cliff notes version when I was still high on painkillers and medical chakra in the hospital, but now he needs the formal accounting. Dotting the i's, crossing the t's. Very normal. Very bureaucratic. Nothing to worry about.
Except, of course, there was plenty to worry about.
They wouldn't just summon you to the tower if they wanted you dead, the rational part of my brain insisted. This was a shinobi village. If Minato wanted me eliminated, he would not do it this way; it would stain his tatami. No, he would be more subtle about it. Shadow Clone in your bed, real you bleeding out in a drainage ditch somewhere. Clean. Efficient. Deserving of the shadows we claim to operate in.
It was too soon for them to decide what to do with me. Decisions like this weren't made overnight. Not when they had to weigh every angle, every risk, every possible way to leverage the situation.
As far as I was aware, the Mist hadn't sent any formal demands as far as I knew, which meant they were either still reeling from the fallout or fighting it out between themselves. Either way, Konoha wouldn't act without knowing where the other villages stood. My head on a platter wouldn't mean much unless it came with some assurance of peace, and even then, they'd have to make sure the cost of losing one of their strongest shinobi was worth it.
You don't trade a shinobi capable of eliminating a kage lightly, not when the stakes are this high. At least, that's what I told myself.
The irrational part of my brain, which, to be honest, had veto power most of the time, wasn't convinced.
The streets were busy. Civilians going about their civilian things, shinobi on their way to or from assignments, kids skipping Academy classes to cause minor property damage. Normal. Peaceful. An ordinary that made you forget we were all just one bad diplomatic incident away from another war.
What's one shinobi's life weighed against thousands?
The thought tasted bitter. True, but bitter.
If this really did come down to a choice, my sorry ass versus preventing another great war, what would I even do? What should I do? Six months ago, the answer would've been easier. Take the noble sacrifice, let Konoha hand me over with an apologetic note and a fruit basket, and prevent the bloodshed. Very heroic. Very selfless. I wouldn't be happy with it, but we would all die; a shinobi knows that the most.
Which made the quality of that death matter even more.
Except now… I had Shiho. And a kid on the way. And Tsunami to think about, too, because somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, I'd ended up with a makeshift family.
Dying used to feel like a noble option. A thing you did when you had nothing left to lose. And I didn't have much of that precious stuff. But now it felt like running away. It felt like the selfish option. Like bailing on my responsibilities and leaving a mess for everyone else to clean up.
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. Thinking too much about this stuff never led anywhere good. It was so conflicting. So I tried not to think too much about it. Just like I often did with Izumi.
But with Izumi, it was a little easier; I had years to learn not to think about her. Accepting to let her go for the small, minimal possibility of saving the Uchiha had been hard, but for as long as I didn't think about her.... Great, now I was thinking about her.
I shook my head, partly to dislodge thoughts of Izumi's smile, partly to brace myself for whatever awaited. The Hokage Tower's entrance came into view.
The building squatted in the heart of Konoha like a stone declaration of authority, attached to the Academy on its western flank, the whole complex forming the village's administrative nexus. Behind it, the Hokage Monument loomed, four faces carved into living rock providing both inspiration and a convenient defensive wall. The village walls curved around the rest in a protective arc.
I'd still made it in under ten minutes, even accounting for the foot traffic. The village was massive, more small city than the "hidden village" nomenclature suggested. A civilian would've needed a horse and divine intervention to make this trek in the allotted time, but shinobi didn't play by civilian rules. Chakra-enhanced speed had its perks.
The cool air inside the building was a welcome reprieve from the summer sun. I was maybe three steps in when a voice drifted lazily across the space.
"My, my. In such a hurry," the voice drawled. "You know, they say a shinobi who only looks forward will miss what's right beside them. For example… a respected colleague. Or a puddle. Try not to be a lesson in either, hm?"
I glanced to the side.
Kakashi Hatake leaned against one of the support pillars like he'd grown there, all artificial nonchalance and, of course, that stupid orange book held at exactly the right angle to catch the light. The man could make loitering look like a wise decision.
"Respected colleague? Ahh." I raised an eyebrow, letting my surprise bleed into my tone, pressing a hand to my chest in mock revelation. "And here I thought it was just a really chill puddle blessed with speech." My gaze dropped pointedly to the book in his hand, that garish cover impossible to miss. "Though I suppose you'd blend into the scenery about as well as you do with your... thrilling literary choices there."
Kakashi glanced at his book, rotated it thoughtfully, then looked back at me with that single visible eye crinkling in what might've been a smile under the mask. "Hmm... Chill puddle. I like that. Has a certain….. reflective tranquility to it. Much more relaxing than my usual pace."
I found myself huffing a laugh despite the anxiety still gnawing at my gut. He wasn't making sense, but it felt like he was.
Kakashi pushed off from the pillar with the kind of effortless grace that came from a lifetime of making everything look easy. "As for my literary choices…..they're an advanced course in human psychology." He tilted his head, that eye curving further. "But I wouldn't expect a rushing kouhai to appreciate the... nuance. Perhaps stick to picture books for now? I hear they're very educational."
I gave him my flattest, most unimpressed stare.
Advanced studies in human psychology. Right. Because that's what we were calling soft-core porn masquerading as romance novels these days. A boring trash work that could only be concocted by sweaty basement dwellers who'd never so much as held hands with another human being, writing elaborate fantasy scenarios that bore about as much resemblance to actual intimacy as a training dummy bore to a real opponent.
And he wanted to play that to my face.
Dude….. I'd done things that would make those authors blush and beg me for notes. The Icha Icha series wasn't even that explicit, for fuck's sake. And while it hadn't been written by a base dweller, you'd be hard-pressed to find anything beyond innuendo and strategically placed ellipses. Which, honestly, made the village's collective obsession with them kind of hilarious and kind of sad.
Amateurs, the arrogant part of my brain supplied. All of them.
"Wow," I said, voice completely flat, dead-eyed delivery that would've made a corpse proud. "You're absolutely right, senpai. I should definitely leave the literature—and even the picture books—to those who need the... supplementary education." I let the pause breathe, just long enough to make the subtext a text. "Must be rough, getting all your field experience secondhand."
Kakashi's eye crinkled further, "Yes, do that," he agreed pleasantly. The shameless bastard completely unbothered. He tucked the book away into some pocket dimension where he apparently stored an infinite supply of them. "So. What brings you here so early in the morning?"
"…. it's midday." My deadpan intensified into what probably qualified as a genetic mutation at this point.
Kakashi stared with such genuine incomprehension that I almost believed he didn't understand how time worked. Which, knowing Kakashi's relationship with punctuality, wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility.
I sighed, the sound dragged from somewhere deep in my chest where my patience usually lived. "I was summoned. By the Hokage."
"Hmm." Kakashi scratched the back of his head, making thoughtful humming noises that somehow conveyed both understanding and complete lack of concern. "Well then, you should probably hurry. Everyone's already arrived." Another head scratch, more humming. "Wouldn't want to keep them waiting."
I blinked. "What."
He turned away, hands sliding casually into his pockets as he started walking down the hall. "Come on. I'll lead you there."
I resisted the urge to sigh again, barely, and fell into step behind him.
We weren't heading up. That was the first thing I noticed—the stairs to Minato's office were right there, obvious and well-trodden, but Kakashi angled us down a side corridor instead. Toward one of the many conference rooms that dotted the tower's lower levels, the ones usually reserved for mission briefings or—
My paranoia kicked into high gear. Where the fuck is he taking me?
"Heard your last mission was quite fun," Kakashi commented, voice still carrying that infuriating lightness as our footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.
I made a noncommittal sound. "I'd go with 'hectic shitstorm of unpredictability,' personally. But hey, semantics."
Kakashi shrugged, the movement barely visible under his jonin vest. "Few more scratches than we like to see. But everyone's still here to complain about them. I'd call that a good day." A pause. "And a good day is a fun day, wouldn't you say?"
"I guess."
The silence stretched for a few steps after that, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly in the empty corridor.
Then Kakashi broke it, voice softer. "You did well."
I breathed through my nose, the words finding purchase harder than they should have. They weren't as direct or emotionally raw as Kushina's thanks had been, but they carried the same weight. It was the closest thing to a genuine thank-you I'd ever get from Kakashi, and just like Kushina's, it pissed me off a little.
But the casualness and emotional deflection of Kakashi was something I could get behind.
"I'm their jonin commander," I said, and my voice came out flatter than I intended. It was all that needed to be said. It was my duty to bring them back alive. I did what I was supposed to do.
Kakashi turned his head, looking at me properly for a moment. Something unreadable flickered across that visible eye before he nodded, facing forward again.
We walked in silence after that. Past administrative offices and storage rooms, down corridors I'd walked a hundred times and somehow still felt lost in. The kind of institutional sameness that made every hallway feel like every other hallway until you weren't sure if you were going deeper into the building or just walking in circles.
Then we stopped.
Big double doors. The fancy kind reserved for Important Rooms where Important Things happened. I recognized them after a second. This was where I'd received my hitai-ate, stood in a room full of fresh genin while someone droned on about the Will of Fire and duty and sacrifice. No, no, that didn't happen; I was confusing it with the show. It had mostly been empty.
Two shinobi flanked the entrance.
"Are you ready?" Asked Kakashi
"Of course not," I answered bravely.
Kakshi nodded like I'd confirmed the weather forecast, and clearly not giving a single damn about my answer, and turned to push the doors open.
— — — — — — — — — — —
You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem